gallant actions on our sea-board and frontier during the late war; and
it occurred more opportunely, as it followed so closely upon the defeat
at Bladensburgh, which, though inevitable from the superior numbers of
the enemy, was still accompanied with the mortification inseparable from
such disaster.
After the embarkation of the troops under General Ross, (who had bought
his victory at Bladensburgh with the loss of nearly a thousand men,)
Admiral Cochrane concentrated his fleet, and made preparations for the
attack on Baltimore. The whole squadron, amounting to forty vessels,
sailed soon after for the Patapsco, and arriving near North Point,
twelve miles from the city, the ships of the line anchored across the
channel, and commenced the debarkation of troops. By the morning of the
12th of September about 8,000 soldiers, sailors, and marines, were in
readiness to march upon the town, and sixteen bomb vessels and frigates
proceeded up the river, and anchored within two miles and a half of Fort
M^{c}Henry.
This garrison, which was mainly relied on for the protection of the
city, was defended by about 5,000 men, and a detachment of about 3,000
was sent on by the North Point road to annoy or engage the enemy at his
approach. Intelligence soon came in, that a light corps was advancing;
and two companies of infantry, with a few riflemen, and ten artillerists
with a single four-pounder, proceeded half a mile, and met and engaged
the main body. The situation of the ground would not admit of the
cooperation of the artillery and cavalry; and the infantry and riflemen
sustained the whole action with great gallantry. The advance of the
enemy was checked, and Major-General Ross and several other British
officers killed.
The detachment now fell back upon the main line of the American force,
and after some skirmishing with rockets and artillery at a distance, the
whole force of the enemy pushed forward, and attacked the two regiments
on the left with great impetuosity. These being thrown into confusion, a
general fire was opened upon the British line, and a vigorous action
followed, which lasted till four o’clock. At that hour the American
force amounting to but about 1,400, and the British to about 7,000,
General Stucker fell back upon the reserve regiment, and was joined by
some other companies, who took position with him within half a mile of
the entrenchments.
Early the following morning the Admiral made signals to the British
officer in command on shore, that the frigates, bomb-ships, and flotilla
of barges, would take their stations to bombard the town and fort in the
course of the morning. The land forces accordingly moved forward, and
took up a position two miles eastward of the entrenchments. The day was
chiefly passed in manœuvring; but Colonel Brooke, after a vain attempt
to make a detour through the country, concentrated the English force
directly in front of the American line, drove in the outposts, and made
preparations for an attack in the night.
The night was stormy; and in the morning it was discovered that the
enemy had abandoned his position. The troops were re-embarked, and a
bombardment commenced, which lasted till the following morning, during
which a fleet of barges attempted to storm Fort Covington, but were
repulsed with great loss. With the failure of this attempt the
undertaking was abandoned altogether, and the fleet stood down the
river.
When the bombardment commenced, the fort opened its batteries upon the
ships; but, the shot falling short, the little garrison were compelled
to keep their post without retaliation. There were four killed and
twenty-four wounded in the entrenchments, and among the former were two
very gallant young men, Lieutenants Clagett and Clem, volunteer
officers.
The entire loss of the British could not be ascertained. That of the
Americans on the field was about 150, which, added to those in the fort,
makes a total of 178.
[Illustration]
A FOREST, ON LAKE ONTARIO.
* * * * *
The view over this immense forest was taken in the Tuscarora
reservation, from an Indian cabin, which serves as a sort of
halting-place for travellers to Niagara. We arrived here about noon,
emerging from a tract of deep woods which had darkened the road for
several miles, and glancing off to the right, discovered that we were
following a high ridge, from which extended, with a radius of forty
miles, one unbroken sea of foliage. A thin silver line on the very rim
of the horizon looked brighter than the sky, and we found on inquiry
that it was Lake Ontario, which, with its thread of bright light, forms
a limit to what, else, were an object as boundless as the sea.
An Indian woman of about forty, dressed very neatly, came out to offer
for sale specimens of Indian workmanship, such as moccasins, pouches,
&c.; and, among other things, a beautiful little model of a bark canoe.
De Kalm, who travelled in this country in 1749, gives a very detailed
account of the making of a canoe. He was going to Canada under the
escort of a party of Indians, who, on coming to a portage of forty
miles, between the Hudson and Lake Champlain, (now superseded by a
canal,) were compelled to leave their canoe and build another.
“The making of the canoe,” he says, “took up half yesterday and all this
day. To make such a boat, they pick out a thick, tall elm, with a smooth
bark, and with as few branches as possible. This tree is cut down, and
great care is taken to prevent the bark from being hurt by falling
against other trees, or against the ground. With this view some do not
fell the trees, but climb to the top of them, split the bark, and strip
it off; which was the method our boat-builder took. The bark is split on
one side, in a straight line along the tree, as long as the boat is
intended to be; at the same time the bark is carefully cut from the stem
a little way on both sides of the slit, that it may more easily
separate. The bark is then peeled off very carefully, and particular
care is taken not to make any holes in it; this is easy when the sap is
in the trees; and at other seasons the tree is heated by the fire for
that purpose.
“The bark thus stripped off is spread on the ground, in a smooth place,
turning the inside downwards, and the rough outside upwards; and to
stretch it better, some logs of wood or stones are carefully put on it,
which press it down. Then the sides of the bark are gently bent upwards,
in order to form the sides of the boat. Some sticks are then fixed into
the ground at the distance of three or four feet from each other, in the
curve line in which the sides of the boat are intended to be, supporting
the bark intended for the sides. The sides of the bark are then bent in
the form which the boat is to have, and according to that, the sticks
are either put near or further off.
“The ribs of the canoe are made of thick branches of hickory, they being
tough and pliable. They are cut into several flat pieces, about an inch
thick, and bent into the form which the ribs require, according to their
places in the broader or narrower part of the boat. The upper edge on
each side is made of two thin poles, of the length of the boat, which
are put close together on the side, being flat where they are joined.
The edge of the bark is put between these two poles, and sewed up with
threads of the mouse-wood, or other tough bark, or with roots.
“After this is done, the poles are sewed together, and being bent
properly, both ends join at each end of the boat, where they are tied
together with ropes. To prevent the widening of the boat at the top,
three or four transverse bands are put across it, from one edge to the
other, at the distance of thirty or forty inches from each other, made
of hickory.
“As the bark at the two ends of the boat cannot be put so close together
as to keep out the water, the crevices are stopped up with the crushed
or pounded bark of the red elm, which in that state looks like oakum.
Some pieces of bark are put on the ribs of the boat, without which the
foot would easily pierce the thin and weak bottom. The side of the bark
which runs next the wood thus becomes the outside of the boat, because
it is smooth and slippery, and cuts the water with less difficulty than
the other.
“The building of these boats is not always quick; for sometimes it
happens that after peeling the bark off an elm, and carefully examining
it, it is found pierced with holes and slits, or is too thin to venture
one’s life in. That which we made was big enough to bear four persons,
with our baggage, which weighed somewhat more than a man.
“All possible precautions must be taken in rowing on rivers with bark
canoes; for when rowing fast, a broken branch under water would carry
half the boat away. To get into it also requires great care, for the
heels may very easily pierce through the bottom.”
[Illustration]
VIADUCT ON THE BALTIMORE AND WASHINGTON RAIL-ROAD.
* * * * *
The Patuxent, which is leaped over so lightly at this place by the
arches of the Viaduct, becomes, ere long, a stream which is not only
respectable in size, but most respectable in story. It will ever be
associated with the name and fame of the gallant Barney, who, though his
exertions could not prevent ultimate defeat, did much to sustain his
country’s honour, and has made his own imperishable.
While the British squadron was blockading the eastern coast during the
summer of 1814, Commodore Barney sailed from Baltimore in command of a
flotilla consisting of a cutter, two gun-boats, a galley, and nine large
barges, for the protection of the inlets and harbours in the several
parts of the bay. On the 1st of June, being at the mouth of the
Patuxent, he discovered two schooners, one of which carried eighteen
guns; and immediately gave chase. The schooners were joined, however, by
a large ship, which despatched a number of barges to their assistance;
and the commodore sailed up the Patuxent to avoid being cut off from the
Potomac. The schooners and barges following him, he engaged and drove
them back, and then anchored within three miles of the seventy-four. In
the course of a few days, the enemy was reinforced by a rasee and a
sloop of war; and joining the barges of these vessels, they followed the
flotilla into St. Leonard’s Creek, across which Commodore Barney formed
his boats in line of battle. A sharp engagement ensued, the enemy gave
way, and the flotilla pursued them to within a short distance of their
shipping. In the afternoon, the enemy made another attempt with twenty
barges and two schooners. After a warm action, the barges were driven
back upon the eighteen-gun schooner, which, in attempting to beat out,
was so severely handled, that her crew ran her aground and abandoned
her. On the 26th, a corps of artillery arrived from Washington to the
commodore’s assistance, and a combined attack was made on the whole
squadron. The action continued two hours; at the end of which the
enemy’s ships were driven from their anchorage, and stood down the
river.
The cessation of hostilities in Europe, enabled the British government
to send out powerful reinforcements to their fleets and armies in
America; and Sir Alexander Cochrane soon arrived with thirty sail,
having on board several thousand men, under command of Major General
Ross. This force entered the Chesapeake, and a plan of attack on
Washington, Alexandria, and Baltimore, was adopted. Admiral Cochrane
very honourably informed the Secretary of State that he had orders to
lay waste all the accessible towns on the coast; and the fleet, in two
divisions, soon after approached the capital by the Potomac and the
Patuxent.
In obedience to orders, Commodore Barney blew up his flotilla in the
Patuxent, and with his seamen and marines, joined the army under General
Winder. General Ross landed six thousand men at the head of frigate
navigation, and, with five thousand, General Winder met him at
Bladensburg. The action commenced at mid-day. Commodore Barney had been
placed with his battery in the main road by which the enemy advanced;
and after two or three vain attempts were made to pass him, the main
column fell back in disorder, and it was found necessary to flank his
right. The British were gaining ground, however, in every other part of
the line; and Commodore Barney was soon left with his small force
standing alone.
General Ross had now nearly complete command of the field; the
ammunition waggons had been driven off in the disorder, and the
commodore was reduced to a single round of cartridge. He had besides
received a severe wound in the thigh. Thus situated, he gave reluctant
orders for retreat; and after being carried a short distance, he fell,
exhausted with loss of blood. He was soon after taken prisoner, and
removed to the enemy’s hospital, where he was treated, by the orders of
General Ross, with the greatest kindness; and, on his recovery, released
on his parole.
After his victory at Bladensburgh, General Ross marched directly to the
capital, and proceeded immediately to burn all the public buildings,
library, &c. Then, as now, Washington was merely a diplomatic capital,
very thinly populated; and the few inhabitants were unable to make any
show of resistance. No comment is necessary on an act which the English
nation itself was the first to condemn.
The division of the enemy’s fleet which sailed up the Potomac,
consisting of eight sail, was directed to attack Alexandria. That small
town surrendered, and obtained a stipulation, upon very ungenerous
conditions, that their houses should not be entered or destroyed.
Captain Gordon, who was in command, sailed soon after down the river
with a fleet of prize vessels taken from the town, and a great amount of
property. He received some damage from the batteries lower down, but
joined the rest of the squadron in the Chesapeake, and accompanied them
in their less successful attacks on Baltimore.
We think the “City of Monuments,” as the last-mentioned town is called,
should erect a monument to the memory of Barney.
“A TRIBUTE TO THE BRAVE.
“Though furled be the banner of blood on the plain,
And rusted the sabre once crimsoned with gore;
Though hushed be the ravens that croaked o’er the slain,
And calmed into silence the battle’s loud roar;
Though Peace with her rosy smile gladden the vales,
And Commerce unshackled dance over the wave;
Though Music and Song may enliven the gales,
And Joy crown with roses and myrtle the brave;
Like spirits that start from the sleep of the dead,
Our heroes shall rouse when the ’larum shall blow;
Then Freedom’s broad flag on the wind shall be spread,
And Valour’s sword flash in the face of the foe.
Our Eagle shall rise ’mid the whirlwinds of war,
And dart through the dun cloud of battle his eye—
Shall spread his wide wings on the tempest afar,
O’er spirits of valour that conquer or die.
And ne’er shall the rage of the conflict be o’er,
And ne’er shall the warm blood of life cease to flow,
And still ’mid the smoke of the battle shall roam
Our Eagle—till scattered and fled be the foe.
When Peace shall disarm War’s dark brow of its frown,
And roses shall bloom on the soldier’s rude grave—
Then Honour shall weave of the laurel a crown,
That Beauty shall bind on the brow of the brave.”—PERCIVAL.
[Illustration]
INDIAN FALLS,
OPPOSITE WEST POINT.
* * * * *
This is a secluded and delicious bit of nature, hidden amid rocks and
woods, on the shore of the Hudson, but possessing a refinement and an
elegance in its wildness which would almost give one the idea that it
was an object of beauty in some royal park. One of the most secret
streams that feed this finest of our rivers, finds its way down through
a winding and almost trackless channel; and after fretting over rocks,
and loitering in dark and limpid pools for several miles, suddenly
bursts out over a precipice of fifty feet, and fills with its clear
waters the sheltered basin seen in the drawing. Immense trees overhang
it on every side, and follow the stream still on in its course; and, in
the depth of summer, the foaming current scarcely catches a ray of the
sun from its source to its outlet. The floor of the basin below the
Falls is pebbly, the water is clear and cool, the spot secluded, and, in
all respects, Nature has formed it for a bath. A fair and famous lady,
residing a summer or two since at West Point, was its first known
Musidora, and the limpid and bright basin is already called after her
name.
A large party visiting at a hospitable house, where the artist and his
travelling companion were entertained during the heat of the last
summer, proposed to accompany him on his visit to the Indian Falls.
Excursions on the banks of the Hudson are usually made in boats; but it
was necessary to see some points of view from the hills between, and we
walked out to the stables to see what could be done for vehicles and
cattle. A farm waggon, with its tail up in the air, built after an old
Dutch fashion, which still prevails in New York,—a sort of loosely
jointed, long, lumbering vehicle, which was meant to go over any rock
smaller than a beer-barrel without upsetting—was the only “consarn,” as
the “help” called it, which would hold the party. With straw in the
bottom, and straps put across from peg to peg, it would carry eleven,
and the driver.
Horses were the next consideration; and here we were rather staggered. A
vicious old mare, that kept a wheelwright and a surgeon in constant
employ,—and a powerful young colt, half broken,—were the only steeds
in stable. However either might be made to go alone, they had never been
tried together; and the double waggon harness was the worse for service.
The “help” suggested very sensibly that the load would be too heavy to
run away with, and that if the mare kicked, or the colt bolted—or, in
short, if any thing happened, except backing over a precipice, we had
only to sit still and let them do their “darndest.”
We cobbled the harness in its weak spots, shook down the straw for the
ladies, nailed up the tail-board, which had lost its rods, got the
cattle in, and brought up quietly to the door. The ladies and the
champagne were put in, and the colt was led off by the bit, shaking his
head, and catching up his hind leg; while the demure old mare drew off
tamely and steadily, “never wicked,” as the ploughman said, “till you
got her dander up with a tough hill.” The driver had a chain with a list
bottom, and, having had some practice in Charing Cross and Fleet Street,
fingered his reins and flourished his maple whip through the village,
evidently not thinking himself or his driving _de la petite bière_.
The road, which followed the ridges of the superb hills skirting the
river opposite West Point, was, in some places, scarce fit even for a
bridle-path; and, at every few paces, came a rock, which we believed
passable when we had surged over it—not before. The two ill-matched
animals drew to a wonder; and the ladies and the champagne had escaped
all damage, till, as the enemy of mankind would have it, our ambitious
whip saw stretching out before him a fair quarter of a mile of more even
road. A slight touch of the whip sent off the colt in a jump, carrying
away the off trace with the first spring; the old mare struck into a
gallop, and, with the broken trace striking against the colt’s heels,
and the whippletree parallel with the pole, away they went as nearly in
a tandem as the remaining part of the harness would allow. The
tail-board soon flew off, and let out two unsuspecting gentlemen, who
had placed their backs and their reliance upon it; and the screams of
the ladies added what was wanting to raise the “dander” of the old mare
to its most unpleasant climax. The straps gave way, the ladies rolled
together in the straw, the driver tossed about on his list-bottomed
chain, the champagne corks flew,—and presently, as if we were driven by
a battering-ram against a wall, we brought up with a tremendous crash,
and stood still. We had come to a sharp turn in the road; and the
horses, unable to turn, had leaped a low stone wall, and breaking clear
of every thing, left us on one side, while they thrashed the ripe wheat
with the whippletrees on the other.
The ladies were undamaged, fortunately; and, with one champagne bottle
saved from the wreck, we completed the excursion to the Falls on foot,
and were too happy to return by water.
[Illustration]
COLUMBIA BRIDGE, OVER THE SUSQUEHANNA.
* * * * *
This fine bridge is a mile and a half in length, and forms a beautiful
span over the broad waters of the river at this place. The many windings
of the Susquehanna make its shallowness and incapacity for navigation
less a disadvantage than would have been felt on a more direct
water-course; and the ingenuity and enterprise of the country in the
construction of canals, bridges, and rail-roads, have left nothing to
desire in the matter of facilities for travel. It is always a reasonable
query to any, except a business traveller, whether the saving of time
and fatigue in the wonderful improvements in locomotion is an equivalent
for the loss of rough adventure and knowledge of the detail of a country
acquired by hardship and delay. Contrast the journey over a rail-road at
a pace of fifteen miles in the hour, through the rough, the picturesque
valley of the Susquehanna, with a journey over the same ground ninety
years ago, as presented in the travels of Peter Kalm. He was on
horseback, with Indian guides.
“About sunset it cleared up, and we encamped on the east branch of the
Susquehanna. In the night it thundered and rained very fast, and took us
at a disadvantage; for we had made no shelter to keep off the rain,
neither could we see it till just over our heads, and it began to fall.
“One of our Indians cut four sticks, five feet long, and stuck both ends
in the ground, at two feet distance one from another; over these he
spread his watch-coat, and crept through them, and then fell to singing.
In the mean time, we were setting poles slantwise in the ground, tying
others across them; over which we spread our blanket, and crept close
under it, with a fire before us, and fell fast asleep. I waked a little
after midnight and found our fire almost out; so I got the hatchet and
felled a few saplings, which I laid on, and made a rousing fire, though
it rained stoutly; and lying down once more, I slept sound all night.
“In the morning, when we had dried our blankets, we kept along the side
of a hill, and looked about us, not having had such an opportunity for
two days, on account of the forest. The valley differed from all I had
ever seen before, in its easy and fruitful ascent and descent,—in its
great width, everywhere crowned with noble and lofty woods,—but above
all, in being entirely free from naked rocks and sharp precipices.”
A night or two after, our traveller fell in with a variety of Indian
character I never have seen noticed elsewhere:—
“Soon after we were laid down to sleep, and our fire almost burnt out,
we were entertained by a comical fellow, disguised in as odd a dress as
Indian folly could invent. He had on a clumsy vizard of wood, coloured
black, with a nose four or five inches long, a grinning mouth set awry,
and furnished with long teeth; round the eyes were circles of bright
brass, surrounded by a larger circle of white paint. From his forehead
hung long tresses of buffalo’s hair; and from the catch part of his head
(his tuft) hung ropes, made of the plaited husks of Indian corn.
“I cannot recollect the whole of his dress, but that it was equally
uncouth. He carried in one hand a large staff, in the other a calabash,
with small stones in it for a rattle; and this he rubbed up and down
with his staff. He came in at the further end of the wigwam, and,
holding up his head, made a noise like the braying of an ass. I asked
Weisar, who, as well as myself, lay next the alley, what noise that was.
Shickalamy, the chief, who thought I was scared, called out, ‘Lie still,
John!’ I never heard him speak so much English before.